because he always came back
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: He always left, but no matter what-no matter how many days or weeks or months-Blaise always came back. Because in his own twisted way, he loved her. He needed her just as much as she needed him.


_**Rated for strong language and aggressive behaviour. Warnings of abuse. **_

…

"_Guess it's true, I'm not good at a one-night stand  
But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man  
These nights never seem to go to plan  
I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?"_

_-Stay with me, Sam Smith_

…

"_Sorry I left. Sorry I came back."_

_- Genetics of Regret, Jeanann Verlee. _

…

His return wasn't exactly a cause for celebration, not when the bruises from last time still hadn't fully healed and her ribs still felt cracked from the last time he had held her.

But she let him back in anyway, because even if his return wasn't a cause for a celebration, she had missed him anyway.

The two of them never mentioned the way she flinched when he was near, nor how she twisted her hands when he talked to her, as though she was trying to hide the split skin.

The two of them never mentioned the fact that he had just walked out of her life one weekend without a word and come back a few months later, strolling through her door over the weekend like he had never left and was only out in the garden all this time.

Astoria just let Blaise back into her life, like she always did, because imagining a world where he _wasn't _around was impossible.

(_Blaise never left. Even when he was gone, she couldn't forget him._)

Blaise had only ever intended on being a one night stand, fucking Astoria and then discarding her like a dozen other women.

But she was easy. She was scared and reliant on someone to take care of her, especially now that Daphne was gone and Draco seemed to want nothing to do with her.

Astoria needed _someone_, anyone, to be in charge of her, and so a one night stand had turned into a relationship that they both knew was just _so wrong._

(_Not that he cared. Not that she ever said anything. After all, she always let him in._)

He even still had the key, had she tried to lock him out, and he had a wand and weighed twice her size and just…there was no way Astoria could ever get rid of him, even if she wanted to.

_(A secret: she didn't.)_

One morning, he came storming into her kitchen, all angry words and waving fists, screaming as he pushed against her, taking away what personal space Astoria had.

"Why didn't you tell me about that?" he demanded of her, shoving her against the cabinets so that her back pushed against painful wood and she wanted to scream.

(_But she didn't. she never did._)

"Why didn't you tell me?" he yelled loudly, pushing her until Astoria thought her back might break, and she almost hoped it would, so that she might die. "Why didn't you tell me about you and Malfoy, about that fucking _scum _growing in your stomach?"

(_Hadn't she told him? No, she hadn't. She hadn't told him about running to Draco within days of his departure, or how she had allowed Draco to…_)

"I'm sorry," she told him through tears, hoping he wouldn't say those awful words, the words she had heard her father say to her mother.

(_"You can't have that baby. You aren't allowed to have that baby. Get rid of it. I don't care how, just get rid of it._")

"I'm sorry," she told him, letting him slap her, letting him punch her and hurt her and call her worthless, because if it meant that he will let her keep her baby, then she would let him do anything.

"Did you _sleep _with him? Did you let him _touch you_? Give me a reason why you even deserve to be with me ever again. Give me a reason for why you deserve to live." He was furious, face going red and eyes almost blank with rage as he hurt her.

And she couldn't come up with a reason; she couldn't come up with a logical reason why he _shouldn't _just get rid of her, because Astoria had betrayed his trust, and anything he did, she deserved, didn't she? Didn't she?

(_He always said that he only punished her because she was bad. Wasn't he right?_)

"I'm sorry," she said again, because it was all she knew how to say anymore. He had taken all other words from her, replacing it just with _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry_. She didn't know how to say anything else.

(_Had he broken something inside of her? Something more than just bones? Had he broken her soul, assuming such a thing even existed anymore, or had ever existed?_)

"Sorry isn't _good _enough, you little whore. _Stop saying sorry_, stop it! Will you shut the fuck up? Shut _up!_ Shut _up! _Shut the hell _up!_"

He smacked her across the face, harder than was normal, even for him, and she fell to the floor, cheek turning red where he had hit her.

Astoria couldn't even see Blaise anymore through the tears, but she could still hear him yelling and cussing, complaining that she apologised too much and cried too much.

"Shut up, goddammit! All you ever _do _is cry! I'm tired of hearing you cry! I'm tired…" he paused, and she looked up at him through puffy eyes, thrown off by his silence.

(_He was only ever silent when things were really, really bad. He was only ever silent when he was planning on leaving her._)

"I'm tired of you, Astoria. You're needy and whiny and you cry too much. I'm done. _We're _done, do you hear me? I'm leaving. I'm _tired _of you and all of your complaining. Run back to Malfoy, if you want, you little bitch, _I _don't care, but I'm through with you, do you hear me? _Through._"

He stormed out of the kitchen, out of her house, leaving Astoria to huddle on the floor, crying and bleeding and struggling to stop both.

There was a cut through her eyebrow where she had hit the cupboard falling to the floor, and she knew the bruises that would form over her current bruises would only hurt when she tried to move, so she stayed on the floor, sobbing.

He did this all the time. He said he was leaving, he said he was over her, and he'd always walk off for a few days or a few weeks or a few months.

But he always came back every time; because she needed him, and he knew that she relied on him like he was her only protector in this world.

And Blaise _wanted _that, Blaise _desired _that sense of control, like he had Astoria's entire life in his hands because she had eagerly handed it over to him whenever he came calling.

So he left, with Astoria on the floor sobbing and broken, but he would be back, because in his own twisted, strange way, Blaise _loved _her.

(_And she loved him. No matter what he did or said, no matter how many times he left or she ran off to Draco. Astoria loved him. She always had._)


End file.
